


duty calls

by cosmicfuss



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chocobros - Freeform, Dom!Noctis, Dom/sub Undertones, Fishing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sub!Gladio, authority kink, back pain and back massages, background promnis if you squint, if that's a thing?, in canonverse but doesn't actually deal with canon plot, just bros being bros travelling and being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 04:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicfuss/pseuds/cosmicfuss
Summary: Gladio has lived his life with one job: to be the Shield of the future King of Lucis.Feelings can't get in the way of thatbut they do.





	duty calls

**Author's Note:**

> the explicit content is at the end, just a warning in case you want to skip it ~~or to it?~~

Built of muscle and fire, Gladio was not the kind of man you saw shiver often.

His very bones seemed to radiate heat outwards, strong circulation insuring neither fingers nor toes felt like ice at night when the digits brushed against his bunkmates. He didn't shake under the chill of Shiva's ice.

Likewise, he wasn't someone who burned under the scorch of the sun. With the heat of Ifrit breathing down his back, Gladio would sweat and stand tall, squinting against the blinding light that beat down relentlessly on the open top of the Regalia.

Sometimes, though, Gladio couldn't help but suppress the shudder of his spine, had to force himself to digest and quell the rising heat in his stomach.

When he felt the rise of his flesh, the hum of blood under his skin, Gladio would distract himself from it. His attention went to any other feeling, the ache of his muscles straining under the hundredth squat or press-up, the lightness of his head from hand stands and curl ups, the feeling of success as he passed another self-imposed benchmark or drill.

He trained the feeling away, with time.

He drowned himself in the pages of novellas, brushing off the occasional ribbing he'd get for reading romance. It was easier, with his eyes on the page and purr of the regalia's engine, to let his skin tingle and eyes skim the words.

Easier to pretend that the giddy feeling he felt after a long, slow build up came to a climax was due entirely to the author's skill, and had nothing to do with the royal pain in the seat beside him that so often caused his blood to pump and to boil.

But, astrals, sometimes Noct made it  _really fucking hard_  on him.

The worst part was, it was always entirely, completely, absolutely incidental.

Gladio couldn't help it, he'd been raised with the mindset of  _You are a shield, that prince will be king, your king, your reason for being_  that eventually Noctis just  _was_. Was everything.

So when Noctis sat there, pole in hand and paying rapt attention to the lure that disappeared in dark waters, Gladio couldn't help but yearn a little. The moon shone down on them, somewhere between a crescent and quarter, and Noctis hummed.

Ignis and Prompto were at the haven, the group deciding to camp out on the beach in a nice desolate little spot. Gladio could've been with them, but Noctis' back had been acting up since that morning and Gladio didn't want him to strain it carrying his haul.

Gladio relaxed in the sand, fingers digging in, and stamped down on the little flickers of ember that rose from the depths of his belly up his throat.

Because Noctis could never help it and he could never stop  _being_ , so Gladio would just have to stop this  _wanting-_ not that he'd had much luck with that, the past four-odd years.

"Gladio, you still awake back there?" Noctis called, quiet to not scare off any fish.

"'Course I am, you're makin' it easy with this  _riveting_  display of fishing skill." Noctis hadn't gotten anything to bite yet.

"Oh shut it, I think they just hate this lure. Grab another one from the tackle box for me," Gladio rolled his eyes but stood, digging through the lures to find one that would satisfy his  _royal pain_. He picked a silver-shiny one, and Noctis narrowed his eyes at it as he reeled in the rest of his line.

"Not that one, get the medium blue one, it has one and a half eyes and is shaped like a pickle." Gladio sighed, long-suffering and extended for effect.

"Could'a just started with that," he clicked his tongue, looking. He could feel Noct's eyes on him as he searched, giving his fingers some fumble. "Or you could've just grabbed it yourself." Noctis laughed, and Gladio looked over to see the smile lingering on his lips- it wasn't often that it appeared, he allowed himself the half-second to appreciate it.

"Sure, big guy, but then you'd still be in the sand all moping-like." Noctis leaned back in the fold-out chair, pole standing between open knees. Gladio searched resolutely for the lure. It was hard, the night sky's stars not doing nearly enough for him.

"Not moping, relaxing," he bit out, bringing harsher gravel to his voice.  _Noct_ , he thought, _you're killin' me here man_. 

Noctis simply hummed, reaching out his hand when Gladio finally located the damned lure. His fingers lingered; Gladio was first to pull back.

"Gonna have to tell Iggy to feed you more vegetables, I don't think you even know what a pickle looks like. That ain't it, highness."

"Oh yeah? What's it shaped like then?" Gladio chuckled at the indignant challenge in his tone.

"A fish," the smile stayed as Noctis huffed, attaching the lure to the end of his line. It didn't take long after that to get a bite.

Gladio situated himself by Noctis' chair, fingers drawing inane patterns on the wood as the prince began the long contest of wills and patience with the creature, a large one by the looks of it. He tried to keep his gaze on the murky, dark waters but found his resolution slipping.

It was dark, he reasoned with himself. And Noct was mid-battle with supper.

Amber eyes shifted upwards, to their prince.

He took in the curve of his back as he hunched with pole in hand, tilting and tugging it this way and that to preserve his line. The fall of his hair, gel failing with the sweat and humidity so the tresses stuck out and about wildly or painted down to the skin of his neck. Fingers on the spool, knuckles white and firm and careful.

The fish was at the end of the pier, Noctis got on his knees.

The rise of his shoulder blades as he hunched over to grab the end and lift the beast of a fish from water. His pants, snug and definitely uncomfortable with sand and sweat but framing the tightness of muscles like a picture.

His grin, proud and bubbly as he dropped dinner in the cooler.

"You think that's big enough for all four of us? It's pretty big, but I think one more'll be better." Noctis was already adding more bait, eyes cast and analyzing the black water. Gladio didn't think he could really see where the fish were, maybe during the day but not now.

He cast the line, lure dancing and taunting another fish that bit within minutes.

"Good job, highness. Or should I start calling you high-Nessy?" Gladio teased, flicking sand at Noctis' legs.

"Hey, don't hate the game. Not my fault you're a mussel-head," he snorted back, hands too occupied but eyes flashing to meet Gladio's briefly.

"Oh it's _on_  like donkey-cod, I just hope you don't end up floundering for words."

"Please, my comebacks are fishcious. Besides, I've got you in my trap, you fell right for the bait," Noctis smirked, jerking the pole as the fish on the other end veered. His expression twisted, frowning into the waves. Gladio followed the gaze, spotting the shadowed mass struggling to get away.

"The line's not gonna last, Noct," Gladio could already see it, eyes trained from watching Noctis fish for countless hours.

"Sure it is, just not all the way. Hey, when it's close enough jump in for it." Gladio sighed, standing to brush sand away. If Ignis were here he'd probably have a conniption from the amount of sand on the pier, probably call it a slipping hazard.

"You got it, Noct."

He waited, still as Noctis struggled to pull the monster of a thing to the pier's edge. Noctis didn't even need to say when, Gladio's feet pushing off as soon as it was close enough. He wrapped his arms around it, fighting against both the force of muscle and water.

He hauled it up the shore, Noctis cheering as he trudged from the waves.

"Hell yeah, Gladio! Let's see what Specs can make with  _this_  beauty!" Gladio grinned, the fish flailing wildly in his arms. Noctis ended its misery quickly so it didn't suffocate on air, helping Gladio shift it to his back. He grabbed the cooler and lit the path for them, giddy.

Ignis and Prompto were struck silent a moment, Ignis first to recoup and congratulate Noctis. Prompto flung his arms around Noctis' shoulders, starting on a seemingly-endless retelling of the heroic catch he hadn't actually witnessed.

"One hundred fifty-two pounds, Noct, good job." Ignis smiled, Noctis flashing him a thumbs-up in response. Ignis, of course, served them a dinner that didn't just rival the most expensive cuisine any of them had ever tasted, it blew them out of the water.

 

There were times when Gladio wanted to do nothing more than train for the sake of training, to revel in the improved speed of his reflexes and strikes and reverberation of his hits.

There were times when Gladio forced himself to train, his self-discipline nothing if not crafted of iron and steel and absolution. Like the Wall of Lucis, sometimes this cracked, failed him.

It was one of the rare mornings he'd allowed himself to sleep in, the previous day sapping him of energy as his body collapsed in their shared tent to focus on healing. He'd had to take a Phoenix Down, on the brink and bleeding out from too many wounds to single one out.

Mornings after days like this, it was unspokenly agreed upon that no one would force any other to rouse from the comforts of rest unless absolutely necessary.

Gladio pulled himself from the dreamless lull of sleep, his hearing first of his senses to start working again, then his nose.

Ignis and Prompto were chatting by the fire, breakfast on its way to being made. Some meat they'd taken from a kill on their hunt days ago, on its last leg and necessary to finish to not waste it.

He couldn't tell what they were talking about but Prompto was laughing, low enough to not disturb anyone's slumber. He could hear their voices distantly, their words garbled with the crackling of fire and light breathing beside him.

Noctis was asleep still, too, no surprise there.

Gladio cracked his eyes open, soft morning light filtering through the fabric of the tent. Noctis was still without a shirt, bandages carefully covering his leftover wounds. A potion hadn't been enough to fully heal him, but Noctis had said it was fine, just a few scratches.

They were running low on curatives, and Gladio knew he didn't even need to make the mental note to get more because he knew Ignis already had one, in all caps and underlined and bold with as many exclamation marks as the man would allow.

Gladio was physically healed of all wounds, but his heart still ached to see a bit of blood staining one of Noct's wrappings- he must've shifted too much in his sleep and opened one up, Gladio knew how nightmares rather than dreams plagued the prince more often than not.

He reached out a hand, turning on his side.

Noctis' skin was soft, taut on lithe muscle. He gave Noct shit for being scrawny- a deflection for when he stared a beat too long, mostly- but under the pads of his calloused fingers he felt the firmness there, the strength.

He worked his fingers through the soft strands, sticking up in odd places from leftover gel and lack of brushing. Noctis would complain about it later, he knew. Gladio silently lamented how he'd end up washing it later and stick more shit in it, cancelling out the natural softness.

Noctis stirred, Gladio's touch gone before the prince could wake.

Because the boy before him was beautiful, yes, and powerful and Gladio knew that intimately. But he was his ward, his king. His duty.

Gladio thought of his father, steeled himself, rose to join the others for breakfast.

For some reason, however impossible it was, Gladio felt like Ignis and Prompto  _knew_. Knew how a fire burned under his skin, how when Noctis assumed his authority and  _commanded, authoritative,_  rather than  _demand, petulant._  Gladio sometimes had to bite his cheek until he tasted iron so he didn't shudder under the weight of the tone.

But then Ignis passed him his plate, meeting his gaze evenly, and Gladio shrugged off the thought.

 

If Gladio never so much as drank a glass of cold water it would be too soon.

They were in another cave for another hunt, this one cold as Shiva's tits. Gladio had even resorted to wearing a full shirt, the fabric alien and snug on his skin. But he didn't shake with the chill of the place, standing tall and letting adrenaline from fights warm his system.

He somewhat blamed Prompto for attracting more monsters, the loudness of his guns echoing in the cavern and drawing more in. It was all well and fine, though, because the more that came to them now, the less that could ambush them further in.

Everything in the cavern was relatively weak, or perhaps the four of them had just grown that much stronger since they'd set out on this journey.

Gladio liked to think the latter, seeing Noctis slice the heads clean off several goblins in a series of fluid motions, blue light trailing behind him.

He cleaved the head off a monster of his own, on the next one before it could even hit the ground. He didn't pause until there was a quiet around them, a lull in the incoming daemons. Black smoke dissipated into the air, everyone stilling as they waited.

With no more incomers, the four continued in.

"Is it just me or is it actually getting  _colder_  in here?" Prompto shivered, teeth clenched shut to keep them from chattering.

"It does appear to grow colder as we descend, though hopefully soon we'll be finished with his hunt." Ignis sighed, breath rising in a cloud.

Noctis was quiet, not unusual for the prince during hunts.

He'd always been that way, from what Gladio could remember. Truthfully he didn't recall much about Noctis before the Marilith attack, hadn't cared much for the young boy then, had thought with complete certainty that he'd never rise to be king.

He knew well who Noctis had been after, though.

Moody, sullen, apathetic. There hadn't been a flicker of light in his eyes after he'd come back from Tenebrae, soulless almost. It had taken a while for him to bounce back and though he'd pitch fights and scream, many of his closer servants admitted quietly that they were glad he was  _talking_.

Gladio knew Ignis was to thank, for the prince's recovery. There was a motherliness about the adviser that Noctis craved in the absence of his own, a friendship he needed as there were no others.

Gladio could recall with clarity the first time Noctis had smiled at him, the two of them in the training hall, sitting on the floor. He'd thanked him, for keeping Iris from their fathers' anger and disappointment after she'd wandered and gotten lost.

"You with us, big guy?" Prompto asked through a locked jaw, elbowing him in the side. Gladio grinned and rumbled out an, "of course."

And then, like that, he wasn't.

There was a screech from a daemon overhead, some unknown thing that seemed a mixture of chameleon and bat, and dove straight at Noctis. He summoned a greatblade and parried, momentum bringing him to the left. It attacked again, sending him off balance, down the slide of slippery ice.

Gladio jumped after, trusting Ignis and Prompto to defeat the daemon.

"Noct!" Blue eyes met brown, both wide and tumbling faster. Noctis tried to stop himself on the ice, though it proved useless, too slick and steep. Gladio did what he could to go faster, reaching Noctis. He pulled him to his chest, shifting as they reached an ending.

They were airborne for all of two seconds- gods, it felt like _eternities_ \- before Gladio's back smacked ice, grip tight around Noctis. He felt the wind push from his lungs and sucked it back greedily, Noctis' voice above him distant and coming closer.

"Gladio, shit, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Noct, lemme up." Noctis did, hands on his arms to bring him upright. He saw Noctis scanning the area for daemons and berated himself for not having the mind to do it first, even with his vision as spotty as it was. He tried to take his hands away to stand but Noctis' grip was like a vice.

"Just settle down, would you? You can look around from here, see," Gladio did.

There was just the one entrance into their little alcove in the cave, Ignis' and Prompto's forms high above them. It was small and dark and frigid, but at least that meant they would've immediately attracted daemons had there been any.

"Guys, you think you can hang tight until we can get some rope or something? It might take a," Prompto's voice quieted, murmuring something to Ignis.

"It will take roughly over two hours to make the trip to the outpost and back," Ignis called in his place.

"That's fine, sooner you go sooner you can get it," Gladio hollered. Noctis sighed beside him, Prompto waving and promising to be quick as they departed.

"Thanks for jumping after me." Noctis said quietly, the small sounds bouncing around the space.

"It's my duty, Noct. Who else would take care of ya," Gladio grinned, mussing his hair. Noctis cracked a wry grin, chapped lips almost cracking, and swatted at the offending hand.

"Oh, sure, go ahead and say that. Big softie," Gladio doubted he'd have caught the last quip if not for the echo from ice. He wondered, almost hesitantly, what else he'd been missing.

They fell into silence, each left to their own thoughts.

Noctis leaned back against the wall of ice, arms crossed and face carefully neutral. Gladio felt a twinge, somewhere in his gut, at the expression. Usually when he and Noctis were alone, he allowed himself to express his thoughts somewhere on his face. Gladio was used to the lift of brows or twitch of lips.

It was foreign to be so blatantly kept out of the prince's thoughts, face in a mask typically reserved for high-stress situations or meetings or political speeches.

Gladio scowled, feeling himself coming into a mood.

They stayed that way for a solid twenty minutes, the silence only interrupted by their breaths and occasional drawn-out sigh from Noctis. Gladio tried to meditate, for the most part, but at the seventh sigh he finally cracked his eyes open, about to snip at him for it.

Gladio paused, taking in Noctis' appearance.

Dark veins popped out under pale skin, lips practically blending in with the rest of his face, a contrast to their usual pinkness. His hands were balled up, brows drawn close. Gladio frowned at him, opening his mouth before Noctis could.

"You cold buddy?" He could see the hesitance on his face, still pensive as he nodded. Gladio stood, crossing to sit next to him. The new spot was noticeably colder but his ass and thighs were numb enough that it didn't matter.

"C'mon, I got enough body heat for the both of us," he motioned, watched as Noctis' initial instinct was to reach out, halted by thought, and then, slowly, he shifted. Noctis sat between Gladio's legs, back to his chest.

Gladio could feel the tension in his body, the way his back hunched and shoulders sat and head tilted down so it was as far away from Gladio as reasonably possible. Then, he relaxed. Met the fabric of Gladio's shirt, head lolled back against his shoulder.

Gladio grinned, glad Noct couldn't see his face. He put his chin atop his prince's head, a crown and a comfort.

He let his arms cross over Noctis' front, felt freezing digits rest on his sleeves. Gladio sent a silent thanks to Shiva, wherever she was.

"Thanks, Gladio." Noctis' voice was hushed by the collar of his shirt, mouth and nose pressed below it to insulate heat. Gladio hummed and hoped the prince didn't think anything of it when he shifted, placing a barely-there kiss atop his head.

 

There were many aspects of camping that Gladio enjoyed, thoroughly and to his very core.

Getting to dip into the cup noodles supply when they were low on ingredients was one. Setting up his old camping gear that Ignis begrudgingly let them keep in the armiger was another-  _"Of all things, camping gear? There are certainly better ways to utilize the armiger's space."_

Sharing the tent with three other people, however, he could've done without.

It wasn't that Gladio minded the space- or lack thereof, largely due to his own bulky mass- or the people he had to share it with. He loved Noct, Prom, and Iggy, really. Other than Iris and Jared they were all the family he had left.

Sometimes, though, he was tempted to fuck on outta the haven and test his luck with the local daemons.

Ignis wasn't much a menace, keeping himself tucked against the far side of the tent with eternal patience. Prompto was the worst of them, technically. He'd snore and murmur in his sleep, lay his limbs spread eagle, bodies next to him be damned as he threw his limbs over them. Astrals bless him, but really?

Sleeping beside Noctis, though, was its own special brand of nightmare- or dream, depending on how he squinted at it. Despite his aloof posterior in his waking hours and still form during his car ride naps, when he was truly good and asleep he like a baby garula trying to become its mother's extra leg from how close it stuck.

Gladio recited as many old Lucian texts as he could remember, blunt nails digging into the plush of the mat they laid in the tent- it didn't really help, but Prompto insisted on it anyway.

Noctis had positioned himself between Ignis and him, and Gladio had the misfortune of being the warmer of the two. Noctis had his head on Gladio's chest, one arm draped across his midsection with the other curled up, fingers brushing the arm Gladio had wrapped around him- it was that or feel as it slowly fell asleep, tingling annoyingly.

The sun still hadn't risen, though Gladio could tell it wouldn't be long. Which also meant Ignis would be up before long. Gladio closed his eyes and willed himself to fall back under the blanket of sleep- it didn't work, because _of course_.

As illogical as it was, Gladio still felt like Ignis knew more about Gladio's thoughts than he'd like. Maybe it wasn't all that illogical, considering this was  _Ignis_ , but that thought was worse than senseless dread so Gladio was willing to lie to himself, just for time being.

He was three-quarters through the story of the first king and the first shield when he heard Ignis stir from the other side of Prompto. He evened his breathing, hopeful.

"Good morning. Comfortable?"  _Shit_. He cracked an eye open, spotting Ignis collecting clean clothes to change into. Gladio almost startled when he felt vibrations on his chest, Noctis humming with a short nod.

"Super," Gladio met eyes with Ignis, who smiled lightly as he crawled from the tent.

"Don't dawdle too late, breakfast will be ready before you know it." Gladio let his eye slip closed, unsure who the warning was for.

He listened to the sound of sizzling, the smells of eggs and meat stirring Prompto beside them. Wiser the second time, Gladio stayed still as Prompto sat up and stretched. He heard the muffled sound of a slap, likely Prompto smacking Noctis on the ass as he seemed so fond of doing- Gladio couldn't fault him for it, really.

"Mornin' buddy, rise'n'shine," he whispered.

"Fuck you too, Prom," Noctis said, finally detaching himself from Gladio's side. Somewhat distantly in the midst of rising conflict and confusion, Gladio wondered if Noctis had noticed the strength with which his heart had beat against his ribs.

He remained there, thinking, as they left him alone in the tent.

He'd always assumed that Noctis migrated and clasped onto them in his sleep. Really, he couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd woken on this trip to find black hair tickling his cheek, calloused fingers on his flesh, legs tangled.

How much of that had been conscious, he wondered.

For how long had Ignis and Prompto been privy to this information, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to know or not-  _yes_ , he decided, yes he did, but Ifrit would catch a cold before he asked either of them.

Gladio rose eventually as plates clinked and were set with food, Ignis passing him his with a silent smirk. He sat and was thankful his tan complexion was hard to flush.

"Our prince and Prompto are going on a search to restock our ingredients, I was hoping you could help me with taking stock of what we have." Ignis commented as they ate, shooting Gladio a level look.

"Sure thing Specs," he replied easily, wondering if this was going to end in a shovel talk. Which wasn't necessary, really, because the only other person alive who was arguably just as qualified to  _give_ that talk was  _Gladio_.

"Gods, Iggy, this is  _great_ ," Prompto smiled, sauce inexplicably on his cheek and forehead. Ignis thanked him, passing a napkin. 

"Think you mean  _eggcellent_." Noctis chimed in, sauce on his chin. Ignis just handed him a napkin as well, smile fond. He and Prompto went back and forth with food-themed puns, continuing their war of words as they washed and dried dishes. They set out when they were done, Ignis giving them a short list and guide of where to find things.

Ignis simply pulled their supplies from the armiger, motioning for Gladio to sit with him so they could go over it all. Gladio sat, focused his mind to the task at hand. Perhaps there was nothing more to this, just two bros, going over their supplies together, no biggie.

Gladio had almost managed to relax when Ignis spoke.

"So, Gladio, how did you find waking up this morning? Uncomfortable?" Gladio swallowed hard, the knot in his throat almost choking him.

"Oh, y'know Noct. He clings in his sleep like a dynoaevis clutches prey." Gladio tried to pass it off with humor. Ignis smirked, but didn't laugh.

"Hm, funny that. Whenever he sleeps beside Prompto or I he seems to have no qualms staying still. Oh well, perhaps it's just the warmth you seem to exude," Ignis shrugged, his eyes never once leaving the table of supplies as he cataloged it all.

Gladio grunted, not sure what he was supposed to be doing since Ignis normally insisted he go over their supplies alone. He watched as Ignis organized, listed, sent items one by one back into the armiger.

Perhaps he would have found words to say, had Prompto not announced his and Noctis' return to the haven.

 

Gladio's eyes scanned the page, teeth nibbling the inside of his cheek to remind him to keep his expression flat. He got enough shit from the others as it was for his choice in literature- namely, Noctis- and didn't need anything added to it.

This was one of his personal favorites, being relatable enough to resonate with him but just different enough to keep him wholly interested.

It was first and foremost the story of the main character, and a romance second. He appreciated those kinds of stories the most, not pushing love as the driving force of one's life but instead an integral  _part_  of it. Not an aside, not unimportant, just not the absolute focus.

The main character had been driven from her house and home for having a child out of wedlock, resolute on keeping them despite her family's several warnings. She traversed unmaintained roads and beaten woodland paths as her stomach grew and labor date approached.

She finally managed to reach a town when her final month approached, the town's midwife happy to help her through it when the time came.

The midwife was described as personable, approachable, but highly secretive in the least noticeable of ways. Everyone in the town knew and adored her, but not one person knew a lick about her past before arriving at their little backcountry town.

Friendly, but elusive and mysterious.

The pregnant woman was the opposite, willing to explain her situation to anyone who asked. She didn't go around telling the town, but the few people who cared to ask received an answer. She taught the town's few children skills she'd learned in her five-month trek to civilization, taught the old maids games from her city.

Shy, but kind and open.

It wasn't long before the woman's due date was on her, clutching the midwife's hand as she guided her through the birth.

The midwife offered to stay in the little cottagehome the woman was living in, to help her adjust to having a newborn, a son, she reasoned. The new mother, exhausted and with new child, readily agreed to having an extra set of hands, wiser than her own.

The midwife helped her with menial tasks around the home, giving the mother more time to ready their field for the coming seasons. The other farmers in the town had helped her so far, what with being so deep into her final trimester, but she was determined to start off this new life with her child doing  _good_  by him.

Months went by as she adjusted to this new life of hers, the midwife never leaving her side. In such a small town, those month had turned into a year by the time she blinked, and one to two.

Their shelves were filled with preserved foods, jams, medicines, herbs kept inside their kitchen so they didn't go dormant in the winter, cellar letting honey wines sit for a day they'd be needed. The midwife stayed.

The young boy cried out at night, sometimes.  _Mama, mama_ , he would call, and the midwife would come in, cooing gently.

He'd wake up from bad dreams and desperately cry,  _Mommy, mommy_ , and his mother would be there, holding him tight and swaddling him in a blanket.

This was the young boy's life, the only one he knew. Though the town was small, it was a beloved community. So far in the country, no one butted into anyone else's personal affairs. One couldn't afford to scorn their neighbors, if their neighbor was the only household within a week's travel away that grew corn or sold milk and cheese.

The story ended hopeful, the two women crouched in their field, fingers covered in berry juice as they picked and fed each other the occasional fruit. The boy was off somewhere, four and therefor a  _ve'y respon'ble big boy_ , his words, snacking on small tomatoes.

The last pages of the book were a message from the author, admitting this was his childhood, his mothers' meeting and circumstances. He recounted learning to weave flowers for crowns and straw for baskets from them, until his Mama grew ill.

His Mama had been a midwife, fallen in love with the tragic, scarred woman who showed up as the season just began to turn cold, feet bloody and calloused, two toes gone to infection.

His Mother had been her city's funeral director's daughter, virtue taken by a client in front of his grandfather's carcass as she'd come to see to arrangements, forced to either flee town or be beaten into miscarriage.

He'd collected flowers from their garden with his Mother when he was ten. She commented solemnly that this one was the most beautiful funeral she had ever arranged, his Mama surrounded by the flowers she'd lovingly tended to and a few bottles of their first honey wine in the casket with her.

"Gladio, you good?" Noctis asked, voice hushed and unnoticed by the other two thanks to Prompto's loud taste in tunes.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just this one, gets to me y'know," Gladio pulled his lips up, waving the book delicately. Noctis smiled, eyes warm as they looked on the cover.

"Yeah, you read that one a lot. It that good?" Gladio nodded, letting it fall to his lap. He hadn't thought Noct noticed what specific titles he read, much less how often.

"Read it yourself 'nd find out," he grinned. Noctis laughed, shoulders light as he leaned back against the regalia's door, toes prodding Gladio's leg.

"Maybe."

 

"So," Noctis drawled out, slow.

They were camping at a haven in Vesperpool, which meant that Noctis insisted on fishing because  _"C'mon, I really wanna have some phoenixbass for dinner tonight."_  And, of course, Ignis had insisted Gladio go with him in case any stray royalisk or midgardsormr wandered about.

Gladio had silently cursed him, the knowing glint in his eyes pissing Gladio off.

"So?" Noctis tugged his pole this way and that, waiting for a bite.

"So, we're stuck out here in the middle of a swamp, might as well, I dunno, talk about something." Noctis shrugged, lure bobbing as a fish nibbled, indecisive.

"And you want to talk about?" Gladio prompted, brows furrowed. Noctis was usually more than content to pass the hours in silence, his attention pointed directly at the water. Gladio watched him tug the bobble bit by bit, too quickly; an anxious habit.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Noctis asked, startling Gladio into looking up to his face. His eyes were on the water, expression not as anxious as Gladio would expect from the way his fingers twirled the spool.

Gladio felt his ears and neck redden as he thought back to the night.

They'd had another full day of driving here to there and back, going on fast, easy hunts that didn't so much as make him sweat. They'd curled up in the beds at Galdin, deciding to just room there since they had to go to report on their hunts. It would've been nice, had Gladio's nerves not been so wound up from lack of proper exercise.

Prompto had jumped into bed with Ignis right after dinner, Noctis veering into the showers.  He'd come back dripping and adorned in a towel at the waist, hair letting droplets fall to his shoulders, his clavicle.

Gladio had barked he was showering next, needing something to relax after the dull day- well, it was only a half-lie, he'd needed  _something_.

The water was already hot so he'd gotten to step straight in, letting his forehead rest against the wall as water beat down on his back. Gladio let his eyes shut, images dancing behind his eyelids.

 _This isn't right,_  he told himself, twisting the temperature to cold. He couldn't let himself start down that slope, not when he remembered being twenty-one and seeing Noctis with his tongue down some boy's throat, hand up his shirt, hand on his hip. Not when it had taken  _months_  for him to finally stop having wet fucking dreams about it.

But, astrals, Noct never made a damn thing in his life  _easy_  did he.

He'd gone to bed that night and smelled the aftershave and Galdin's customary mud scrub on Noct's skin, smelling like earth and spice and a  _treat_. He'd read well into the wee hours of morning, desperately breathing through his mouth instead, had barely gotten four hours rest before Ignis had him up to eat breakfast.

"Slept fine, why?" He said, because there was nothing else he  _could_  say for himself. Couldn't explain that, no actually he'd slept like shit because Noctis had had a leg pressed up against him, hand barely touching Gladio's hair, had him half-hard for nearly an hour until it went away- he'd worried he'd had fucking priapism, his dick was still tender from it.

"Really? You've got circles under your eyes," Noctis pointed out, motioning to his own face before going back to reeling. A fish finally bit, pulling the line taut and demanding his attention.

"I don't comment when you wake up lookin' like the loser of a fistfight," Gladio huffed, voice trained and level. He saw Noctis glance down at him, Gladio situated at the end of the pier at his feet. Gladio had sat there to put his legs in the water but Noctis had snapped that he'd scare away the fish that way.

"Hey, Gladio," Noctis began, bringing the fish ever-closer. Gladio glanced up at him, waiting. "Can you take my shoes off, I would but I got this fish to reel in. 'T's hot as Ifrit's pits out here." The fish gave a sharp tug then, as if to prove a point. Gladio sighed but shifted to face him, fingers unlacing heavy boots.

"Your feet fuckin'  _reek_  Noct," he winced, lip curling as the stench hit him. Noct shrugged as he reeled, unbothered. Gladio rolled his eyes, tugging a boot off with slightly more force than was necessary. If Noctis cared he didn't say anything, offering his other foot.

Gladio unlaced it and tugged, setting them both down behind Noctis' chair.

"You want me to get the socks too, highness?" Gladio snorted, eyes snapping up when Noctis put his foot back in Gladio's lap, eyes on the water. "You shittin' me?"

He was silent.

He was serious.

Gladio grumbled as he peeled the fabric off, trying not to use his nose as he stuffed them into a boot. He stared up at Noct, frowning, "Anything else I can get you, highness?"

"My fish," Noctis replied evenly, tugging the pole a little as he reeled. Gladio glanced over the pier and spotted the fish. He lifted it up, detached its mouth from the hook, plopped it into the cooler. "Anything  _else_  I can get for you, highness?"

Noctis recast the line, finally meeting Gladio's gaze.

"I'll let you know."

Gladio bet he fucking would, the brat.

 

Gladio relaxed against the bed, shirt on the floor in a way he knew Ignis would disapprove of had he been there. For all Noctis' griping he was right about one thing: Lestallum was  _hot_.

Ignis and Prompto were on a shopping run, their supplies left in the armiger running low again. Noctis was sprawled out on the other bed, and maybe that saying  _you reap what you sow_  is really true-

"It's  _so hot_  here," Gladio couldn't count the number of times the prince had whined about the heat of the city. So he said, like an  _idiot_ ,

"Then take your shirt off, or are you still embarrassed about your scrawny body?"

\- because here Gladio was, stuck in their hotel room, sweating and humid and staring at his charge, shirtless. For all the shit Gladio gave him, the prince  _had_  muscle and Gladio  _could_  see it.

Gladio sometimes wondered if the Six had conspired against him when they'd named Noct as King of Kings, if they'd all just agreed that, as King of Kings, one of his duties was to make his shield's life as hard as possible.

Maybe.

Maybe Noct was really just fucking with him at this point; if someone told Gladio that was what it was, he might just believe them, no questions asked.

Because, since their little fishing expedition at Vesperpool, Noct had adopted a new tone and attitude, saved solely for when they were alone.

"Gladio," that, there. "You think you could give me a massage? My back's been acting up all day from the heat." It was phrased as a question but Noctis' tone suggested everything  _but_. Gladio felt his feet jerk off the bed, propelling him over to the other one automatically. He grabbed a spare towel, lifted prince's ankles to rest them on it.

He couldn't help it, when Noctis sat up on his elbows and looked at him, hair pushed back and tone  _dripping_  with inflections that made his blood hot. Gladio sat with one leg on the bed, kneeling over Noctis' body.

He began rubbing at the muscles, feeling the tension and knots already. He palmed the flesh, inspecting, moving from the shoulder blades up to the neck, squeezing gently and rubbing circles into the base  of his head.

Noctis moaned beneath him, Gladio's hands pressing in harder for just a second before he recovered.

He continued warming up the muscles, fingers traveling back down along his spine. He couldn't help but eye the scar, this close to it. Pink and old, travelling from his left shoulder to right hip. 

Gladio's hands stilled, a finger travelling parallel to the scar, just barely under it.

Noctis went quiet under him. He moved his head and craned his neck to peek up at Gladio, expression complicated.

"What're you thinking?" His tone was careful, and Gladio laid his hand flat on his hip, fingers curling on his side, thumb rubbing absently along the raised flesh.

Sometimes Gladio saw that scar and thought of his father's words,  _This is what it looks like when a shield fails, this boy will be your King_. Sometimes he looked at that scar and, as illogical as the thought may be, thought  _This is my failing, I won't let it happen again_.

"Do you the Lucian sign for king?" Gladio said instead, recalling something from his distant past. Noctis shook his head, propping himself on his elbows to face him better. Gladio kept his left hand on Noctis' hip, his right forming a 'k' and travelling from his left shoulder to right hip.

Noctis smiled, Gladio's hand falling away as the prince-  _king_ \- turned to face him.

"I'm not a king, not without my people, my kingdom. Once we get it back, then," Noctis stopped, repeating the gesture across his body, parallel the scar.

"You are king," Gladio said,  _My king_ , he did not. Noctis didn't argue, pushing himself into a sitting position, a hand reaching to cradle the inbetween of Gladio's neck and jaw. Gladio met his eyes; there was so much there.

His hand fell away as he flopped back down onto his stomach. "My back still aches, though, king or not." Gladio smiled lightly, not needing to be told twice.

Gladio still remembered the hours every day he'd spent with a physical therapist. Noctis had been around fourteen, finally taking his training seriously but ignoring the pain it caused his spine. He'd been reckless, thinking pain made him weak- Gladio probably had something to do with that, a lot maybe, and he hated himself for it a little even now.

As soon as Gladio had learned that his charge was slowly bringing himself closer to further permanent damage, he'd begun seeing the PT specialist to learn how to help him. Noct hadn't listened to anyone else about his body- other than Ignis, who he'd be chastised by but then quickly forget during training.

It had fallen to Gladio, and Gladio had met the challenge with fervor.

He'd learned how to properly massage the prince's back in order to release stress and lessen the physical burden his damaged spine went through in their sparring sessions. He'd learned the stretches, created fighting moves and styles specifically designed to meet the prince's needs.

Gladio was nothing if not wholly devoted to his charge, the conviction growing with years- with other emotions, ones he was far less eager to put name to, to give power.

Noctis hummed happily, a smile barely visible to Gladio as the prince half-buried his face in the pillow. He started down at his hip, palm pressing circles upwards, relaxing the muscle there. He squeezed at the flesh, lifting muscle and soothing it. He shifted, thumbs pressing down along the flesh.

Noctis whined in his throat as Gladio paused, thumb still pressed in as he shifted to the other side of the bed to repeat the process. Knuckles dragging down his spine, Noctis hummed happily. Gladio didn't feel awkward as he pressed one palm into the base of Noct's back, fingers just barely above his ass. He let the other palm slide upwards, touch light.

Another light moan slipped out of Noctis, and Gladio trembled a little and prayed to the Six that he hadn't noticed in his blissed-out peace. He swallowed hard, doing the same on each side of his back.

 _Six_.

He finished up, dragging his palms across Noct's back, shifting to move away when Noctis stopped him, hand on his knee.

"Gladio," Gladio swallowed, Noctis' voice low and a little wrecked. Noctis shifted to one side of the bed, kicking the towel off the bed carelessly. "Lay down with me?" He lowered himself, eyes trained on Noct's face.

His pupils were blown wide, blue a thin band around the black pools. Gladio didn't imagine it was just because of the lack of light, only the midday sun filtering through the curtains lighting the room.

Gladio both lamented and was endlessly grateful for the fact that Ignis and Prompto were coming back to this room.

Gladio's head hit the pillow beside Noctis' own, apparently too much space for the prince as he shifted closer. There was a hand on Gladio's arm, feather-light.

"Noct," he breathed, not sure if he should admonish or urge the behavior.

"Gladio,"  _Astrals_ , even voice leaden with relaxation he still somehow was able to use that tone. Gladio felt his flesh rise, hair standing up, as a shiver wracked down his body- the first he hadn't been able to suppress, a bad sign surely.

"I'm your shield," he said, instead of  _I don't want this_  or  _This is wrong_ \- because he  _did_  even though it was, undoubtedly,  _awful_. But Ramuh strike him,  _he wanted_.

Prompto's laugh sounded, loud and boisterous and right down the hall. Noctis didn't stop him as he stood, watched as he threw his arms through the holes in his open shirt.

 

Drunk on giddiness, the four of them had originally decided to camp out, somewhere around twenty miles from Hammerhead and thirty from the next nearest hint of civilization. Under desert night stars, Gladio felt more at peace than he had in days, weeks perhaps.

Prompto and Ignis still weren't back, but Gladio knew better than to worry about them.

They'd run out of dinner after finding a group of four stranded hunters. They'd needed a meal- a few, probably- rather than a potion, so Ignis had prepared a feast for them all. It had been nice, and the hunters had offered to walk he and Prompto back to Hammerhead- had daemon repelling amulets, apparently how they'd survived as long as they did.

So the four went to two, with their other half probably MIA until early afternoon the following day.

Ignis was probably asking the hunters about their amulets right now, if he hadn't hours ago. Prompto was probably bragging about his shooting abilities, trying to impress the two girl hunters that had been with the group.

Noctis was somewhere a few feet to his left, following his example and staring up at the stars.

"Gladio," or not. He turned his head to glance at him, saw him sitting in one of the camper chairs by the fire, light dancing off his features. He motioned with his head to approach. Gladio didn't need words to go with it, pushing himself up and strolling over.

"What's up Noct?" Gladio sat in the chair by him, peering curiously.

It had been weeks since Noctis last tried-

to do what? to make a move? he hadn't. to get Gladio to? he almost had, had been so close.

\- asking for a massage in Lestallum. There hadn't been much time for anything since, busy doing hunts for gil and living off the land. They'd always been around the other two, or with one of them, away from each other.

Not that Gladio minded much, really, he reasoned it was for the best.

Especially with the way that he'd still sometimes wake with morning wood, Noct's body draped over his like he was his mattress, and have to not-so-stealthily get passed Ignis and either deal with it or wait it off.

Ignis,  _Six bless him_ , never made mention of it.

But there was no Ignis here to distract them with vegetables hidden in dinner, no Prompto to shove pictures of Wiz's baby chocobos in their faces and coo over them.

There was just him, sitting in a rickety camping chair and staring at the way the blue of Noct's eyes was swallowed by black. There was Noct, staring at him with an expression that seemed to say  _Well?_

 _Well what?_  Gladio wanted to ask, desperately. Wanted to ask  _What the fuck are we doing? What the fuck are you doing? Here? To me?_

"I know," Noctis started, voice low and slow as molasses.  _What the fuck do you know?_  "I know, but I want you to tell me."  _Tell you what?_

"Tell you what?" Gladio almost wished he hadn't opened his mouth, voice gruff.

"How you feel."  _I know_ , he'd said.

"I'm your shield." Noctis frowned, and for a second Gladio knew he'd do anything to fight the expression off, the  _disappointment_. The second passed, this time.

Noctis looked thoughtful before settling on something, rising to his feet. He sunk down again, this time in front of Gladio, kneeling.

 _This is wrong, this is_ so, _so_   _wrong,_  Gladio thought, not making a move to stop it.  _Coward_ , he bit at himself, the voice sounding disturbingly like his father's in his mind, filled with that same disappointment he'd used when Gladio didn't train hard enough.

Palms settled on his knees, pushing them apart as Noctis leaned closer.

"If you aren't going to talk, I will. How's that?" It wasn't a question he was meant to answer, he knew. "You're my shield, yes, but you're more than that. You're my friend, my brother, you're  _Gladio_." Gladio felt the beginnings of his crumbling resolve.

He's spent so many years feeling like this wasn't allowed, this  _shouldn't_  be allowed, to want this, to want his king.  _His king_.

"You're kneeling," Gladio stated dumbly, and he knew he'd look back on this for years to come and berate himself for choosing  _this_  moment to lose all eloquence. Noctis cracked a smile, making the moment a little more worth it.

"I am." Noctis didn't speak for a moment, and Gladio almost thought that that was it. That he'd changed his mind entirely, was backing out. Noctis rose and Gladio thought,  _that was it, this is for the best_ , and tried to stifle the bitter resentment of himself. Noctis sunk into his own camping chair, eyes on Gladio.

"Why don't you kneel instead?"

Gladio had lived his entire life following commands. Maybe that's what it was, this inexplicable need to jump when that tone said jump, duck when it said duck. Gladio knelt, knees at home in the sand.

He had to tilt his head up, just a little, to meet Noct's eyes, and the smile he got was all the reward he needed, the fingers that reached out to him a bonus. Noctis rubbed circles into the base of his neck, a thumb rubbing through his beard.

"I'll hear it when you're ready, how about that?" Noctis smiled, and Gladio would've called him a cheeky brat under other circumstances. "How long are you gonna make me wait?" Noctis hummed, nails dragging over Gladio's scalp.

"Noct, I," Gladio stopped himself out of habit. He still didn't think he was allowed this, years of telling himself just as much had worn the message into his very bones. "This isn't  _right_."

"Are you telling the king what's right and what's not now? Are you my royal adviser, or are you my shield?" Later, Gladio might look back and think that Noctis sounded a bit like a brat right then, back to his petulant patterns. Right then, Gladio could only say three words.

"I'm your shield."

Noctis smiled, warm and happy, so genuinely happy that Gladio felt his heart  _ache_  at the sight.

"What is it that my shield wants? Tell me," Noctis' voice was like honey, sweet and enticing and too sticky to get out of once he was stuck. Gladio thought he might be drowning, and then he let himself stop thinking, just for a moment.

"My king," his voice was breath but Noctis heard it- maybe Noctis just heard  _everything_ , everything Gladio didn't,  _couldn't_ , say.

He felt the fingers on his head tug him and he followed, hands mirroring what Noct's had done prior, rough thumbs rubbing into toned thighs.

He kept his eyes open as Noct's drooped closed, his face guided closer, lips brushed lips, both dry from desert air. Noct moved against him, mouth tugging up into a smile, the apples of his cheeks brushing Gladio as he tilted closer.

"Take off my shoes," Noctis murmured against him, and Gladio's mind snapped back to Vesperpool, to dreaming that night of a sultry voice telling him  _Sit still, Gladio, don't touch yourself. Open yourself up for me, don't touch your prostate. Lick me, wrap your mouth around me, never forget this taste, Gladio._  

Gladio backed away, unlacing heavy boots. He set them to the side of Noctis' chair, waiting. At his command, Gladio peeled away the socks, stuffed them into a boot.

"Strip down," this hadn't been demanded by the lake, and Gladio wondered if maybe had he allowed himself, if Noct would have done this then too. He repressed a shudder at the thought, hands shucking his boots and socks off, then his shirt.

"You're not done yet. Would you rather be in the tent?" Gladio unbuttoned his jeans by way of answer, pulling them down his legs, tossed there carelessly by his boots and shirt. He knew there was a growing bulge in his briefs, almost regretting wearing such form-fitted underwear- it felt better during battle, he'd found, and easier to get athletic clothes over.

"I want you to use your words too," Noctis grinned, spread across his camping chair as if it were his throne, the desert his chambers in the Citadel. "Would you prefer the tent, I want to know what  _you_  want."

Gladio thought.

There wasn't a living soul within miles of them, their friends not due back until late tomorrow. The tent, though, may be better for Noctis. He didn't know how Noct wanted this, a part of his brain that was ever-dutiful thought to keep him off the jagged harshness of the haven's rock, brushed with a layer of grating sand. He thought of silver raised flesh from the marilith on Noct's back, how he twinged it occasionally and swore.

"The tent," he responded, waiting. Noctis raised his arms.

Gladio didn't need to be told twice-  _once_ \- and bent down. Noctis looped his arms around his shoulders, a hand in his hair as Gladio put an arm under his knees, hoisting. This close, Gladio could hear it, feel it, when Noctis sucked in a breath.

He crossed to the open tent, stooped down to let Noctis inside. It was warm inside, the chill of the night air off them now. Gladio hadn't even registered it then, but the difference now was obvious, and he was glad he'd gone with the tent- Noct had a weaker immune system and was more likely to get sick than the average young adult, old injuries unforgiving.

Noctis sat in the tent, Gladio half-in-half-out. He unbuttoned the highest button on his shirt and Gladio itched to help, to shed him of the fabric, to see the skin he'd sparred with and fought beside and bathed near and massaged in the privacy of a hotel room in Lestallum.

"Stay there, watch." Gladio clenched his fists and did just that.

Noct had to be going this slow on purpose, there was no other explanation for how insufferably tedious he was with the scene. Maybe time was just running slow for Gladio, but he suspected this was just his prince, his bratty, intolerable prince.

Noctis reached the final button, let the shirt hang open on his chest like Gladio did so often. Was this his own special blend of  _fuck you karma_ , throwing Gladio's brashness back at him?

His fingers itched to feel, to run over hard edges and soft plains of skin. He'd spent his whole life practicing discipline, had spent the last four years with this specific brand called  _Noctis_.

Noctis pushed the shirt from his shoulders, over his arms and off his hands. He passed it to Gladio with the simple command, "Fold this." Noctis lounged back, weight on his hands as he waited for Gladio to finish.

"Wow, Specs would be proud of that," he commented when he was done, examining the primly pressed lines and uniform shape. Clarus and the crownsguard had drilled perfection into him, raised a soldier whose standards stood taller than himself- and Gladio had a lot of height.

"You did well, help me with these," he motioned to his jeans with a hand, putting it back to lean on after. Gladio swallowed thickly, flexing his fingers to shake away the soreness that came from being in a fist for so long.

It probably should've seemed like a punishment to someone else, being told like that, tone bordering dismissive. But he could see where Noct chewed the inside of his lower lip, the skin pulled just a fraction. Noct was happy, proud of him, nervous.

The thought almost sent a shock through his body, barely suppressed.

"Don't hold back, I want to see you. Your reactions, your voice." Noctis smiled slightly, and Gladio nodded, let himself let out a shaky hand as he reached forward.

He remembered just last month when Noct had been ill, sick with some bug. Prompto had been preparing his bath and Ignis was out shopping for system-boosting foods. When Prompto came out Gladio had offered to carry him in and stay with him, assuring the blond he didn't mind- 

he didn't say that he didn't think he could stomach Noct being out of his sight, face red and breath labored in the worst of ways, reminiscent of when he was young and sickly and the Citadel wondered if the king would take another wife, produce a new heir in case,

\- and Prompto had nodded, let Gladio carry Noct in.

He'd sat him down on the toilet lid, undressed his charge. Washed his back gently, added oils to the bath water, scrubbed sweat and dirt from his skin and grease from his scalp.

He unbuttoned Noct's jeans, probably the same pair as then, slipped them down his thighs when Noctis lifted his hips, pulled them off his ankles. He folded them without being told, set them with the shirt just outside the tent's open flap.

Noctis shifted to his knees, back tall as he looked down to Gladio. He cupped his face, fingertips brushing his hairline. Gladio met his gaze; there was a lot there, much of it the same he'd seen that day in Lestallum, Noct's body under his.

Noct's face hovered above his now, so many of those same emotions playing out on it and Gladio finally allowed himself to name a few- trust, adoration, pride, earnest contentment and something  _more_ , something he still didn't allow himself. To name, to believe.

Noctis' hands found his own, showed them purchase on his waist.

Gladio let his fingers run over the skin, peeking around to his back, his left fingertips running over raised flesh, trust burning in Noctis' eyes.

"Do you want to know how long I've wanted this?" Gladio nodded. "Should I tell you?"

"Please," he breathed. Gladio  _had_  to know, had to have something to remind himself that this  _was_  allowed. Noctis put their foreheads together, nose just barely brushing Gladio's. Gladio ran his hands higher up his sides, feeling, knowing that this had been permitted.

"When I was sixteen and we were training together, I had to wear cups every day. Because I knew you'd pin me, grapple with me, I wanted you to take me on the training mats. What would you have done, then? My shield," Gladio took deliberate breaths, his own air coming back to hit him as it bounced off Noctis' lips.

"Whatever you wanted of me, highness." Noctis hummed at that, leaning back a fraction to look into Gladio's eyes without crossing them.

"I want you now, I want your mouth on me," Noctis grinned, a small twitch of his lips upwards, and Gladio felt his fingers reflexively press harder into his waist. "Suck me off," he said, and then was back to lounging back lazily, legs open in invitation.

Gladio felt blessed by the Six as he was welcomed between them, nuzzling the fabric above Noctis' crotch. He pressed his mouth to the heat, tasted the pre that dribbled below it. At Noctis' command he looped his fingers under the boxers, pulling them down. He folded them, set them outside.

"Good," Noctis praised, and Gladio was back to lapping at the leaking slit, earnest, thrilled. "You're doing so good, for me." He heard Noctis sigh happily, fingers running through his hair. Gladio shuddered hard, his shoulder coming close to knocking the inside of Noctis' thigh.

Gladio had had men in his mouth like this before, had had women too. He wasn't blind, knew what he looked like, and could smooth-talk the most pious person in Eos into a little kiss on the cheek.

On the ground before Noct, his prince,  _his king_ , mouth on him. That was different.  _This_  was different.

Gladio hoped beyond hope that this wasn't it, that Noctis would  _choose him_.

His tongue circled the head, fingers massages his balls gently, another stroking at the base of the cock. He moaned around Noctis, unable to help it when blunt nails dug from his scalp down to his neck, stopping right above where his tattoo sat.

"Touch yourself for me, don't cum yet." Gladio removed the hand from the base of his shaft and moved it to his own, twisting his wrist in the way he liked best. He was painfully hard, from just servicing Noct.  _Gods_.

He let his mouth get used to having Noctis in it, moving his mouth lower around it bit by bit, tongue lapping at the shaft as he lowered himself. He pressed his nose into curly hairs, forehead resting for just a second on the skin of his belly.

Noctis moaned above him, nails back on his scalp. Gladio felt one of his legs on the base of his back, not needing to apply any pressure to keep Gladio in place. Noctis would never need strength to make Gladio move, not here.

Noctis' other foot went under Gladio's body, toeing his hand from himself, heel digging into his thigh. Gladio moaned again, lifting his head some and feeling the effects of the vibrations, precum hitting the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, felt Noctis' foot on his cock as a result.

"How often have you gotten yourself off, thinking about this? Me?" Gladio couldn't answer, Noctis' hands keeping his head firmly in place as they raced feather-light from his hairline to neck.

Gladio hummed instead, the foot on his back digging toes below the waistline of his briefs. He lifted it up, let the elastic slap it back against his skin. Gladio almost whined, wishing for  _more_ , for harsher contact, for rougher nails digging into him, for  _Noct_.

"Every time you're off with some girl or boy Prompto tries to distract me with King's Knight, you know. I suppose you  _wouldn't_  though. Do you wish it was me then, wish I was telling you what to do just like now? Picture your  _king's_  face where theirs is? Can they treat you as well as I do?"

 _No, Gods no, no one can treat me like this, my king_ , he couldn't say, swallowing hard around Noctis and eliciting a shuddering gasp. Noctis pushed the briefs off with his feet, pressing into his ass and cock with controlled movements.

"You look good like this," Noctis' voice was light and heady and Gladio could feel him twitch in his mouth. He rubbed a pronounced vein with his tongue, lifting himself up to the head. He pressed his tongue into the slit, precum coating it. He pressed kisses there, then back down to the base, tongue running back up.

Noctis' voice broke as he moaned a command, Gladio's mouth back around him in an instant. He was aching, cock throbbing under the pressure of Noctis' heel. He made a noise in the back of his throat, so Noct would know, know how affected and close he was.

"I want you to cum for me, Gladio," Noctis breathed, voice still regal despite the heat in it. And who was Gladio to refuse his king?

Cum splattered Noctis' leg and foot, and it took everything in Gladio to remind himself that he couldn't stop, his mouth working around Noct through the haze of release. Then there was a hand on his chin, lifting his head weightlessly.

"You made a mess, clean it." Gladio, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen, nodded.

He sat back, eyed Noct's left leg that was painted in stripes of white. He cradled it gently, one hand under his ankle and other pressing into his thigh.

Gladio started at the bottom, lapping up the spots that had hit the arch of his foot, worked his way up all the sides. Noctis' thin leg hairs met his stung, droplets of cum hanging onto some like rain on leaves, soaking up strings of cum like a delicacy. He felt almost bad, drinking it up like a parched man.

He ran his tongue up his shin, his calf, to his knee. This was the leg that gave Noct trouble occasionally, on the bad days. He pressed kisses to the cap, eyes meeting Noctis' again.

Noctis hummed approvingly, smile authoritative as he motioned for Gladio to come to him.

Noctis tongued his lips and his mouth opened for him.

"You taste so good, I can't wait to taste myself in your mouth." Gladio groaned, eyes flitting shut as Noctis pulled away. "I want you to swallow me, then kiss me when you're done." Gladio nodded, chest aching as he had to leave those lips.

It didn't take much for Noctis tome cum in his mouth, the liquid hitting the back of Gladio's throat. His king had held himself off for so long, for Gladio. He could feel Noct's thighs trembling under him as he came, moaning his name.

Gladio would probably wake up with the echo of that sound in his ears for months.

As his king commanded, Gladio waited out the orgasm, then was up, mouth on Noct's, tongues dancing and clashing.

"You taste so good, did so well," Noctis cooed, fingers running through Gladio's hair, over his jaw, his cheeks. Noctis laid himself out, pushing Gladio back so he was on top of him. Noctis shifted so his head was in the nook of Gladio's neck, fingers running over his chest soothingly.

The light ministrations felt so good that Gladio's insistent thoughts of  _This was wrong, This isn't what a shield should do, The king will punish you for defiling him this way, This was so damnably wrong_ falling away to thoughts of  _Noctis wanted this, You served him well, Noctis is your king_.

The second voice was Noctis' own, low in his ear as they lay together.

Built of muscle and fire, Gladio was not a man you saw shiver often.

His very bones radiated heat outwards, strong circulation insuring neither fingers nor toes felt made of ice at night when brushing against his bedmates. He didn't shake under the chill of the glacian's ice.

Likewise, he wasn't someone who burned under the scorch of sun. With Ifrit's very pits airing down his back, Gladio would sweat and stand tall, squinting against the unforgiving rays that beat down relentlessly on the open top of the Regalia.

Sometimes, though, Gladio would let himself feel the full shudder that coursed down his back, through his shoulders, touched his toes and neck. He would let himself feel the heat in the low of his belly, staring at his king.

"I love you, Gladio," Noctis murmured. Gladio met his gaze; _there was so much there_.

There was trust, adoration, pride, lust, earnest contentment, and there was something that Gladio allowed himself to name, to believe.

 _There's love_.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really inspired lately to write for these two, they don't have enough content :-0 y'know what they say, if there aren't enough fics for something,,,, write it yourself. I gotta. also I wrote _exactly_ 11k for this and i'm a little miffed that it says there's more? where'd it come from?
> 
> let me know what you thought of it !! and feel free to leave crit (esp on the dom/sub parts, I'm not exactly an expert so if you have thoughts I'd love to hear them) !!


End file.
